


Oatmeal

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio fetches his forgotten phone from Ignis’ apartment.





	Oatmeal

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “What it says on the tin. He could be baking. or maybe wearing just an apron. If you want. I guess” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9218443#cmt9218443).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s had the spare key to Ignis’ apartment for so long that he can’t even remember when he first got it—probably when they were still new and young, two teenagers bonding over their shared ward. Gladiolus has only ever used it a handful of times—Ignis spends so very little time at home, always busy with dozens of errands all over the city, mostly around the palace and Noctis’ apartment. Sometimes even Gladiolus’. But they shared a quick meeting over Noctis’ training schedule on the comfort of Ignis’ couch only a couple hours ago. They finished up, Gladiolus said his goodbye, and he made it all the way home before he realized that something was missing. He probably could’ve waited until the morning. But then he realized that if he left it, Ignis would surely rush over first-thing to return the cell phone that Gladiolus so stupidly left behind, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for even one more chore on Ignis’ enormous list.

Because of that, he drives back himself. He goes up the elevator and slips his key into the lock, quiet as possible, because it’s well into the night now, and Ignis gets little enough sleep as it is without lumbering bodyguards waking him up. Gladiolus steps silently into the dark apartment, politely sheds his shoes on the mat, and feels his way along the hall’s wall towards the living room. 

He has to pass the kitchenette on the way, where he realizes much too late that the stove light’s on. It’s just enough illumination to see the contents of the kitchen: a bowl of what looks like raw cookie dough, a wax-paper laden tray beside it, and a very naked Ignis Scientia attending both.

Gladiolus freezes in his tracks. He fully expected Ignis to be sleeping. Ignis _should_ be sleeping. But apparently he sleeps in the nude, and he wanted a midnight snack. Neither of those things fits with the prim and proper image Gladiolus has always had of him. Ignis’ trim figure leans over the counter as his skilled fingers work through the sticky dough, smoothly rolling out dozens of little balls. Ignis’ handsome face is pinched with concentration as he works, eyes heatedly fixed on his task. His long body arches into each diligent movement, trim muscles flexing as he goes. His hips are flush against the counter, that and the shadows hiding the view between, but Gladiolus gets a full, luscious view of Ignis’ lithe legs, his shapely thighs, the ripe curve of his ass and the taut cinch of his waist. 

Then Ignis steps aside, turning away from Gladiolus in favour of a water glass placed on the other counter. And suddenly Gladiolus has a completely uninterrupted view of Ignis’ entire backside: every inch of his pale skin and every sensual nook and cranny. Gladiolus’ eyes skim down Ignis’ lower back towards the tight cheeks of his ass, dimpled with his motion. And there’s a small, darkened peek swaying between.

All at once, Gladiolus’ head rushes back into him, because this is too much, this is _wrong_ —he’ll never be able to look Ignis in the eyes again without picturing Ignis flushed and spent beneath him, but that’s not fair to Ignis—so Gladiolus loudly clears his throat.

Ignis doesn’t jump. He goes entirely tense, head whipping back and eyes piercing Gladiolus on the spot. Gladiolus tries to offer a weak smile. He’s sure he’s blushing far worse than Ignis. Ignis’ cheeks only stain a subtle pink. Gladiolus conspicuously coughs and offers, “I, uh... forgot my phone... figured I’d, y’know... get it back without, uh... waking you up...”

It takes a second for Ignis to snap to life. Then he moves slickly back to the counter, once again concealing his crotch, and he snatches a dishcloth off the handle of the stove to hold over his hip, pointedly covering his rear. Gladiolus forces himself to keep his gaze on Ignis’ face and not stray any lower. Even Ignis’ well-defined chest is a danger to him—he had no idea Ignis’ nipples were so pink and... _cute_.

He had no idea he wanted to see Ignis wearing nothing but a strategically placed cup noodle package. Now he does. Ignis looks right at home in the kitchen, but he looks even better like this, comfortably at home in just bare skin. 

Ignis finally answers, “Right.”

Gladiolus stiffly nods and moves into the blackness of the living room. His eyes have adjusted just enough to find his phone, discarded on the coffee table, looking traitorously innocent. Gladiolus quickly pockets it. He heads right out again, even though he doesn’t want to.

He’s just passing the kitchenette, gaze carefully averted, when Ignis asks, “Would you like to stay for... cookies?”

Gladiolus’ gait instantly halts. He looks over immediately, but Ignis doesn’t meet his eyes. Ignis is busy opening a drawer and pulling out a thin, plain apron, which he exchanges the dishcloth for. He brings it over his head and straightens it out over his front while Gladiolus is still frozen in the hallway. Lastly, Ignis ties the two strings around his waist into a little bow at the back, which drapes perfectly down over his crack. 

Gladiolus’ throat is horribly dry, but his mouth is nearly salivating. Somehow, he manages, “Yeah.” 

He returns to sit on one of the stools on the other side of the kitchenette’s island. Ignis finally catches his eye, gaze firm and blazing beneath Gladiolus’ shaken one. 

Then Ignis returns to his cookies, and Gladiolus gulps and watches.


End file.
